


Hook, Line, and Sinker

by steelneena



Series: CR 2 Oneshots and Short Series [32]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: "Things it yearns to remember", "things my heart, 114 major spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Gen, I'm just LIVING for the suggestion from the end of the session okay?, Lucien is the biggest hypocrite to ever hypocrite, Minor Character Death, The Dinner, The episode from a Non-Nein perspective, character introspection, outsider pov, the scry, used to know", weekend at bernie's 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27396622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: The Nein arrive in Eiselcross. Where someone is waiting. Someone is watching. Someone familiar.Not that they know it.
Series: CR 2 Oneshots and Short Series [32]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1280990
Comments: 6
Kudos: 77





	Hook, Line, and Sinker

**Author's Note:**

> I just HAD TO. AUGHHHH. 
> 
> Thanks to the people who put out the transcripts, because, wow, they're lifesavers.

She was so bleedin’ full of herself that she announced her arrival with full fanfare, the assembly’s crest rising high in the sky in a vibrant green arcane light. Ever since he first discovered that he was being scryed on and did a little...back work, so to speak, to trace the direction he’d been waiting in Balenpost for the ship to make it to port. A thrill of excitement went through him at the sight, and he pulled his cloak more tightly about his neck to stave off the cold. 

So much overconfidence, he wanted to laugh aloud, but refrained, instead waiting amidst the crowd, unnoticed in his hat of disguise, to see her close enough that he might replicate her outfit and do a little hands on reconnaissance. Speaking to the Captain would not go amiss and then, of course, there was the little matter of the mercenaries she’d hired to do her dirty work. 

_Predictable_ , he thought, scoffing. _Predictable._

But he’d be lying to himself if he did not admit that they were at least half of the reason he’d made the detour in the first place. The revenge that has so long awaited him would be sweet and earned, but meeting the so called Mighty Nein would be almost as delectable an opportunity. Two, for the price of one. And Lucien had never been one to pass up a good bargain. 

He watched as they were met by Wardlow Ackron, the tricky fellow, before heading off to the main fort. Vess, her haughty head held high, was in the lead, with the colorfully motley band following behind. Cree had mentioned them, of course, the moment that they’d messaged her. The nervous tick in her voice had been impossible to miss, but Lucien had handwaved her concerns; there were more important things at stake than the fact that the group with which he had presumably traveled was newly aware of his resurrection. They were...hazy in his memory at best. Names eluded him, and Cree did not recall either, but they were indeed as vibrant and varied as described. Sore thumbs on the bleak landscape of Eiselcross. 

He waited until they disappeared into the confines of the fort before he stepped into the alleyway around the corner from the door to recast the spell, giving himself her exact visage, save a tiny pin hidden in her mass of hair to account for the hat itself. It was easy to remember her - how could he forget the superior way she held herself, looking down at him along the angle of her thin nose? Oh how he had laughed with his Tomb Takers in private at how she underestimated them, how she’d held herself so high as they ever so subtly took more and more advantage of her position and desires. 

(Not that he’d laughed when he got too cocky, and ended up looking up at that simpering smirk while he breathed his last beneath her gaze.

Well, who would be laughing now?)

Back straight, haughty expression firmly in place, he swanned his way through the crowd, who parted for him easily, as he made his way up the gangplank towards the Captain. Approaching him with an imperious arch to his brow, Lucien adopted her accent with little trouble - how it had grated on his ears, he’d not soon forget.

“Captain.” 

“Ah, Lady DeRogna. We were just resupplying before we head out. What can I do for you?” There was just the undertone of trepidation to the Captain’s voice. “Is something wrong?” 

“Not _wrong_ , per say,” he said, barely able to keep the habitual grin from his face, and launched into his spiel, with the knowledge that it would take very little direction or prodding before the Captain would undoubtedly provide him with any information beyond even that for which he had asked. The power of...well, _power_ ... knew very, _very_ few limits, and luckily, Vess DeRogna was a very powerful lady. 

The hint of a grin tugged insistently at his mouth, even as the Captain reiterated the insanities that befell their journey. 

Yes indeed, Vess DeRogna was an extremely powerful lady.

For now. 

Satisfied with all the Captain had to offer, not the least to say intrigued by the report of this “Mighty Nein”, he made his curt departure and headed back towards the fort ducking into an alley at the last minute to drop the spell and hide the hat. Her room would be the same as always; DeRogna was a creature of habit and comfort and it was far from likely that she’d feel the need to alter that in any way. Comfort had a way of breeding complacency, Lucien considered with an edge of spiteful glee as he hauled himself up the side of the building. After all, complacency was what had gotten him killed the first go around. 

It was time to turn the tables. 

Nimbly, he made his way onto the ledge outside her window and peered in. There she was, in the midst of her strewn about accoutrement, books and boxes and papers splayed all about with scant half an hour’s time of her presence within. After a moment’s wait to see if she would turn or move about at all, he determined that it was safe to trend inside. Wriggling a claw under the latch, he popped it open. With a nary a creak, the window swung wide and he ducked inside, feet landing lightly on the floorboards within. 

With a curl of his fingers, and a curl of his lip in malice, Lucien readied his spell. “Hullo there Vess. Long time, no see.” 

She whirled around at the foot of the bed, stricken, and he let the spell loose, instantly binding her effortlessly in place, the eye on his hand bursting with blood, which trickled warm into his palm beneath his thick glove. Alarm - delicious fear - painted her features and Lucien let himself really smile then, and allowed himself a chuckle as he stepped forward. “Surprised to see me?” The grin that split his face was sharp and pearly white. Relishing in the heady nectar of revenge, he readied the next spell. “Thought you might be. Last time we saw one another, I was dead. And you were the one to do it. Well, now I’m here to return the favour.” He stopped his advance, just close enough to see the gleam of terror in her eyes. “You’re _very_ welcome.” 

It was over in but the span of a few minutes. Watching her fall back, lifeless on the bed, blood streaming from her every orifice, was _almost_ as satisfying as he thought it would be, but the dissipation of the magic that kept her Nine from prying eyes left a sour taste in his mouth. _Knowing_ the truth of what she’d stolen and _seeing_ it were two very different things, after all. 

Quickly, spitefully, he rifled through her pockets, taking everything worth even potentially a scrap of copper (not that he needed or wanted the money. It was the principle of the thing.) before setting to work looking through her things. There would be time, of course, and plenty of it if he played things right, before anyone would know what had happened. Time that he could spend catching up on what he’d missed, on what Vess had discovered in the meantime, - who was he, after all, to pass up all the hard work she’d done for him? No need to reinvent the wheel, as it were - and (he couldn’t stop grinning) a chance to take stock of the people he’d apparently once called friends, people who had apparently been assailed by undead pirates and strange mutated creatures of the deep, and held their own through rather showy and impressive feats of magic, were the Captain to be believed. Lucien snorted. A giant, razor-fanged lizard, indeed! 

Subtly, and unnoticed, of course. It would be half a laugh, regardless, to skip about pretending to be Vess. Not that he _needed_ to, no, but well...Lucien shrugged to himself. 

What was the point of being alive, after all, if he couldn’t have a little fun while doing it? 

The book would keep til later. 

Unfortunately, it would be no good to spy on his latest quarry in her guise, so as soon as he left the room - locking it securely - he found himself an inconspicuous place and redid himself up as the same unnoticeable fellow he’d been before and set himself casually about exiting the fort. Not a single soul paid him no nevermind. The wintry blast that met him as he stepped outside caused him to bristle, but he was quickly distracted from the annoyance by the sound of laughter carrying amidst the snow, and the shadow of a body flung through the air and into an enormous snowdrift, quickly followed by another. 

The redheaded human was snickering, his hands held at the end of a somatic movement, fingers still crooked for spellcasting. A wizard perhaps, if the stories the Captain had told were credible enough, which perhaps, they might indeed have been. Telekinesis was no small feat, after all, and to use it twice so frivolously… Well, there was certainly confidence in that, forgiving the lack of pragmatism. A playful group, these, which was equally interesting. Nearby, the remnants of several snowmen reinforced his perspective. 

Huffing a bit of a laugh, he moved on, careful not to be caught staring too long - he was hardly the only one watching their unusual antics, but it wouldn’t do to be caught out particularly. Eventually, they all seemed to regroup, and he turned back towards the fort to settle into his disguise as Vess and situate himself where he could easily make their renewed acquaintance. 

Pretending to be Vess had its perks of course, and Lucien wasn’t above taking advantage of them. His dinner was prepared with carrots - an _excellent_ treat, having been boiled with some onions, perhaps the last left in the fort altogether, considering the difficulties he’d heard about up in Icehaven. There was mulled wine too, which he sipped to warm his throat between bites of an undefinable roast. Not long after he’d been served, they entered, sitting down to a long row table, crowding rowdily on their benches. 

He flicked a finger, summoning some poor fellow who’d been wrangled into keeping the Lady DeRogna happy (all things considered, he’d probably gotten the better end of the deal. He wasn’t _half_ so difficult please.). 

“Inform the ‘Mighty Nein’ that they will sup with me this evening. Bring whatever meals they’ve requested to this table.” 

“Of course, my Lady.” The guard gave a stunted little bow, uncertain perhaps in how he ought act, and scurried away. 

It would be interesting, what followed, regardless of the outcome. Lucien was sure he’d not have any difficulty in convincing them of his identity - he knew Vess DeRogna well enough to imitate her, and they, so it seemed, knew her quite little by comparison. Still, he’d have to be at least a little more… conservative with his words. Precisely what they all knew - what she had all deigned to reveal - was impossible to know, but she was prissy and mysterious anyways, so a few vagaries here and there wouldn’t be the end of the world. 

Total, three wine bottles were set on the table as the Nein arrived, Vess’ intended attendants setting the places, laying out the meals, and pouring the drinks. 

Lucien lifted his wine glass, surveying them as he did. The first thing he noticed was that there weren’t nine of them. A tremulous part of him, the traiterous thread, wondered if perhaps they were allies after all. If the name had nothing to do with the number of their people, and rather more to do with...other things. There was a firbolg, tall and willowy and vaguely pinkish. The bright blue tiefling from before, and the Zemnian mage who had flung her and their monkish looking friend into the snowdrift before. Additionally, he noticed an ironically fierce looking halfling woman, who had all but jumped up onto the bench. Last, though not least, the monk, and the large, pale Xhorhasian warrior woman rounded out the group. Up close they were a sight more impressive than from afar. 

“Well, welcome to Eiselcross, eh?” Well practiced after the space of twenty minutes or so, Vess’ accent dripped from Lucien’s tongue. It was the half-orc who took the lead. Not quite bulky, but well armoured and pretty. The face of their operation, apparently. 

“Happy to be here,” he replied officiously, with a polite smile that might have been a hare tight if his features weren’t so pleasant. Oh yes, most abidingly the face of the band.

"Quite the journey,” he continued, working the line between vague and specific, interested and blasé . “I heard from the captain, Kem, that there was quite a bit of business during the trek, yes?" 

There was half a breath’s pause - negligible, if one didn’t know what to look for, but then, Lucien wasn’t just _anyone_ \- before the half-orc responded. “It was indeed a bit more than I think even we anticipated. The weather out here is,” he paused, with a grimace that ended in a bitter laugh. “ _choice_.” 

At that, he could hardly contain a laugh himself. If they’d been upset by the weather during the crossing, they were in for quite the unhappy surprise the deeper they trekked through the frosted expanses that lay beyond the fort’s walls. "Oh, it's only going to get better,” he led, teasingly, before switching the topic abruptly. “But I was both surprised and impressed that I was not called for nor required to take care of such an encounter.” Undead, deep sea fiends, and hungry cetuses; Kem’s eyes had been comically wide upon recounting the variety of obstacles they’d encountered. Quite the crossing indeed. He set down the goblet. Cree hadn’t had much to say of their capabilities, but the captain's reports were promising, atop the fact that Vess had bothered to secure their employment in the first place. “And as such, you prove once again to be as useful as I hoped you would be." 

“Oh,” the monk spoke up, her eyes narrowed a bit, and stance defensive. “We just didn't think that would be your kind of fun.”

Good _gracious_ but it was hard not to laugh at her scathing tone. “I don't get to see action too very often,” Lucien began. “But I do like that I don't have to do too much if I don't need to.” Indeed, it was one reason why he’d insisted upon checking in on Vess by himself. After all, waste not, want not. And to waste a resource as precious as this group of not-nine could turn out to be? Well, that would simply be foolish. His eyes ever so casually found the auburn haired mage with the blue-as-skies eyes. “As those of the arcane pursuit would know, sometimes it's best to keep your most important reserves at the ready." 

“Yes.” Dead serious, completely unfazed despite the fact that he’d used a high level spell to have a bit of a wintery frolik in the snow, the wizard replied. “You never want to squander them on frivolous things.”

Powerful, scathing and a sense of humour to boot. No indeed, this little detour was already proving more advantageous than he could ever have hoped. That time, he let himself laugh. “Indeed.” 

Taking a wine bottle in hand, he refilled the wizard’s goblet. "So, Dagen is a very accomplished explorer and will be taking us through and northward around the outskirts of the river, that is, the River of Flame. There will be a required crossing of it. But thankfully I have the ability to negate that challenge when we reach it." 

“Like you can make us fly?! Or you can make it cold or you make a bridge or you can just--” the tielfing rattled on, eyes wide and excited. 

“Well, it's far too wide for me to turn-- oh, the thing is nearly a mile across." 

While the halfling woman mouthed out a ‘wow’, the tiefling girl’s face fell. “Oh. That’s a lot.”

“It's a big river,” the half-orc assented.

Lucien waved their concerns aside, and lifted his fork once more, before considering back to DeRogna’s various abilities. "But flight and such things I can take care of." 

“How many times have you made the journey before?” the wizard asked, face lined thoughtfully, and Lucien spared only half a thought’s surprise on the fact that they apparently hadn’t already discussed such specifics with Vess prior to their arrival. 

"Only once,” he replied, for all the best lies were couched in truth, and of their particular destination that was indeed still the truth, before it occurred to him that they could have been testing him through such an answer. But it was too late. The damage was already done.

A soft ‘oh’, from the wizard was all the response he received. Not a bluff then, luckily. He reigned himself in, fell back on what he knew would be a viable conversation. "Which is why Dagen will be so necessary for this, but then not too far beyond then, we will make our way to the primary excavation site. Then we shall to see what we find." He didn’t have to fake the emotion in his voice as he considered what was was to come, but the monk shook him from his thoughts. 

“How many days are you anticipating this journey?” 

They were a moderately intelligent bunch, with something of a spark twinkling in every eye, be it shrewdness or mischief, or both, as they so commonly went hand in hand. A passing tightness surrounded his heart, but then, it was gone. "With Dagen's aid and without any serious issues?” He did the mental math. “I imagine this will take us about a week and a half." 

“It's a big ass map.” The half-orc’s expression was comical. 

“Without serious issues.” That time, it was the firbolg who spoke, quite, and considering. Serious. Not quite alike to the others. And with a sharp eye, if Lucien wasn’t off base - he wore quite the discerning expression, as though he were peering right through the magic that disguised Lucien’s form. 

"Well,” he continued, not allowing himself to be tripped up by the unnerving stare. “Iit is a dangerous place. That is why I brought you along with me." 

“Two weeks.” The firbolg repeated, the monk nodding back. 

“And just in case we need to make a quick getaway for whatever reasons, no teleporting is allowed around here?” 

The high pitched, raspy voice from the halfling would have been more surprising, were it not for the poor set of memories that her question brought forth. Lucien winced. "I mean, it is possible. It is just, it's a dangerous roll of the dice, you would say." 

Once more, the tiefling eyed him hard. “What could happen if you, if it went wrong? If it went poorly? 

“"Well, sometimes it can send you to a place you have no idea where it intended to bring you. It could drop you in the middle of nowhere or it can tear you apart." 

They listened with rapt attention as he more or less detailed the trials and tribulations of using magic near Aeor, and once again he half marveled at how much they had agreed to with such little understanding of what it was they were getting into. 

Unless, of course, they were his scryers. In which case, it was less surprising, though still just as ill conceived. 

After that, Dinner appeared to be winding down. He’d just pointed out ‘Mister Underthorn’ when the oher tiefling piped up again. 

“How will we know when we've done what we're supposed to do?” she asked. “Are you looking for something particular?” 

"When we've acquired enough remnant information of Aeor that pertains to either the recovery of powerful artifacts. I've taken rubbings of, before, of various symbols and information that was scavenged or found within the architecture there, that itself contains partial equations and information about what they were in the process of developing as well as what they used to protect the city itself." 

All at once, visions, bright and blinding, blaring, blazing with the anticipation of accomplishment, flashed before his eyes. Like liquid fire, he felt the excitement burn through his veins. "There are..." It filled him physically, his expression breaking to match the searing beat in his heart at the very imagining. "It is incredible. All of the various things that they had done and were working to do in Aeor before the Calamity. Who _knows_ what we could do if we were even just to understand _some_ of it today." 

The thick Zemnian accent broke through his musing. “And do you have a laundry list of specifics, or are we just here until you have sated yourself with new discoveries? 

For the first time, Lucien truly took in the wizard’s visage. Pale, with windburned cheeks of dusky pink, and a gaze chillier than the icy tundra that awaited. Almost imperceptibly, Lucien shivered. "I have some ideas, but more the latter." 

“Have you been to this particular structure before that we're going to?” asked the tiefling, pulling his attention once more. 

Another tricksy question. Deserving of an equally tricksy answer. If gingerly crafted. "I've only been but maybe a small toe dip within, if you will, before it grew a bit dangerous for an individual traveling with a…” he laughed for a moment to himself, thinking of the way in which DeRogna had considered the Tomb Takers. “A smaller, less accomplished group, such as yourselves.” As far as appropriately smug answers went, it would suffice. He could see the derision grow on their features. So trusting! “So it was decided to return at a later date. And at the time when I returned, after a challenging departure, as I previously explained, the conflict began to grow with the Dynasty, and the Assembly decided my focuses were required elsewhere in other types of research." 

The moment he opened the way for conversation on the assembly, the mage picked the thread right up. Carefully, Lucien wove between answering and details; it had been too long since he’d been able to really catch up on the political nuances and interpersonal subtleties of the capital’s most irritating and irredeemable thorns in his side. In the time that he’d been back, he’d only really had the opportunity to reaffirm that Dwendal was still King, and Ludius was still sitting head of the assembly, the prick. But the wizard was watching him ever more closely. Too close for comfort, so Lucien nipped the conversation in the bud.

“Well. Unless you have other business with me, I believe I am to make my way to my quarters." 

“You know what?” said the halfling, with surprising sincerity. “We'll take care of dinner tonight, just as a thank you for bringing us along on this journey.” 

The briefest quizzical twitch of her brows was unavoidable, and he wracked his brain for a minute, before assenting. If they wanted to waste their coin on Vess DeRogna’s specially prepared dinner, who was he to argue? “That's surprising. This is certainly a first for anyone I've hired for a particular journey.” He laughed, genuinely amused. “This is very kind of you." 

“It's our pleasure.” 

Something...something….but whatever it was, was gone. "Of course." One bottle of wine remained, unopened, and he grabbed it as he stood. "I will prepare for the rest of my evening's plans. I believe Dagen is at your disposal. Enjoy the rest of your meal, and once again, thank you." 

He heard a thank you, as he took his leave, and another grumble or two followed by laughter, but he couldn’t be bothered to care precisely what it was they were saying. The slender glass neck of the bottle was smooth in his grip as he walked away from them, feeling relatively pleased. They’d bought his rouse without even the single bat of an eye, eaten right from the palm of his hand, utterly unquestioning. In fact, they’d seemed all too pleased to ham it up for ‘Vess’, speaking amiably enough to ‘her’, even if it was evident to _him_ that there was a general dislike for Vess herself. He could hardly blame them; she was, after all, intolerable. 

Well, _had_ been, he thought with a grin. But the dalliance was over and he had no more time to waste. Sooner or later, they would discover that someone had slipped in and done away with the self-important bitch. Whether or not they’d suspect it was him...well, _one_ of them had been scrying on him, or trying to do so, regularly, though he still couldn’t be sure which. 

A not so small part of him relished in the idea that he might get to play with them a little more. Dinner had served twofold purpose, to be sure, both in allowing him to feel them out, while also enjoying the subterfuge. But there was only so much fun in going entirely unnoticed. More the fun to those who knew the truth, only discovered it too late. To wind them up and watch them spin in frantic desperation. 

To feel the thrill of the chase once again. A race to the finish, and then-

Adrenaline flooded his veins. 

And then, the _real_ fun would begin. 

Back in her room, he shirked his disguise, no longer concerned about the possibility of discovery. Why should he be, after all, if his design was for them to follow him? The book, of course, held precedence - he’d already played a little too close to the edge as far as a comfortable lead could be concerned. They were only just downstairs, and if they realized too quickly, well, then he’d really have to book it if he intended to maintain the game. 

But they were a curious lot. So much was evident. And curious kittens could be enticed to play along with very, _very_ little compulsion. A ball of string, a glittery locket, the dead body of a powerful mage. Hook. Line. Sinker. 

He’d have them eating out of the palm of his hand. Tame, and simpering, and adoring. 

Just the way he liked it. 

Shuffling through boxes, several minutes later, he felt the telltale shudder of a magical miasma; with a moment’s concentration, he let the arcane ability flow through him, the eye on his neck glowing in the dully lit interior, revealing the location of the scrying orb. 

Right on schedule. 

His eyes met the beacon, and he sighed out a contented, thrilled smile. “Oh, well, lookie here.” If they sensed that he wasn’t surprised, it wasn’t going to be a bother. “A return visitor. Now, uh, don’t get running. You’ve curiosity to sate, right?” The orb didn’t waver. _Success._ “I take it you’re the one who’s been peekin’ recently. I have to thank you, for without your scent I wouldn’t have been able to follow _her_.“

Looking down for a moment at the box through which he’d been rifling, he continued to shuffle aside papers and ledgers; he was close. So close, _so_ close, and now that they’d seen him, he was down to the limit. But keeping them occupied was equally as important as continuing in his pursuit. He chanced a glance up once more, at the silently pulsing globe of white.

“Now don’t be alarmed.” Gently, he lifted a finger, drifted its point from his eyes to theirs. “I see many things with Mine Eyes.” He let his attention drift just beyond, to the body where it lay, cold and still, long since having ceased to ooze blood. “Been trying to watch this one's path a while now, till you found me.” It would drive them mad, wondering, he knew. Absolutely wild. Would they catch his hints? Would he hear their thunderous footsteps beyond the doorway? “ Saw the threads and we ahh,” he licked his lips, considering how to phrase it. “Made a detour.” It was impossible to keep the gleeful smile from his lips as he flourished his fingers before his face. “Shame really, all that knowledge and so _little_ understanding.” 

She’d thought him unworthy. Thought him a tool, a pawn. 

She’d been wrong. She’d paid for that grave miscalculation with her life. 

Ha, _grave_ . Very nearly, he laughed at his own unspoken wordplay. And then, looking up, finally, _finally_ , he saw it. 

“Ah!” 

There, in the corner. A satchel, one he’d not yet looked in, and there, just peeking from the corner, a most familiar sight. Little more than a collection of papers, the Book, binderless, stitched together without front or back. Ancient. Almost so fragile he half would have dared not to touch it, if he hadn’t already known better. Unassuming, insignificant, and yet, more precious than anything else Vess DeRogna had carried on her person. To carry it in plain sight...while not altogether uninspired, he sneered at her vice. The overconfidence she’d born astounded him. 

So much the better was he for her flaw. He darted out of the range of the eye for just so long as it took to snatch the recherché collection of sheaves. Though the open window beckoned, he did not make for it immediately, instead, returning to the place where he had stood before, the scrying orb still waiting, almost pregnant with the trepidation he imagined was growing on the other end. Intently, he took a moment to pass through the pages, each one more familiar to him than the scars that littered his body. 

Delight and anticipation welled within him, near to overflow. There was no containing the smile as it grew, or the widening of his eyes at the sheer power promised by its presence in his hands. The unlimited possibility. 

“But you see, now things are set right.” The path was clear. “Once more, I have what she took from me.” 

He turned then, finally, toward the window, book secure in hand. The moon barely filtered through the immense overcast, but the snow was still a stark pale blanket on the pitch black horizon beyond the fort’s solid walls. Stepping through, he paused once more, bit his lip a little before turning back to glance over his shoulder at that persistent white glow.

“To alpha and alpha we trek till homeward bound we be.” Hook. Line. Sinker. “Maybe we’ll see you there.” 

He ducked out the window, lifted his free hand, and snapped. 

The challenge was laid. The race, begun. 

Where he went, the Nein were sure to follow.

And with that, Lucien the Nonagon disappeared into the lightless night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone else getting like... Heath Ledger Joker vibes from Matt's performance? Or is that just me?  
> Also, Lucien is the biggest hypocrite to ever hypocrite and I enjoyed writing him so much.


End file.
